Fractured Glass
by Noofle
Summary: S1 Ep6. Sam Taylor - ordinary young uni student. That was, until alien monsters started stalking him. Now, his only hope lies with a man he has never met, a man who calls himself 'the Doctor'. But can the Doctor and Brittany save Sam from the horror?
1. The Things That Go Bump in the Night

**A/N: Welsome to episode six, another adventure of the Doctor and Brittany. Yeah, episode six of a series of stories, go read the other episodes first et cetera et cetera et cetera. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: ****in the absence of a witty, attention-grabbing, amusing, random or otherwise interesting disclaimer, the following has been inserted - I do not own Doctor Who.**

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SERIES ONE: EPISODE SIX

**FRACTURED GLASS**

**CHAPTER ONE: THE THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT**

Sam Taylor was the pinnacle of ordinary-ness. He was a twenty-two year old university student from Auckland, Aotearoa, the land of the long white cloud, otherwise known as New Zealand. Part-time job, had a few mates, went to the pub on weekends. Loved science fiction and aliens and dinosaurs and anything else like that.

Suffice to say, he was well surprised to find himself in a science fiction story of his own. It had all started when he had seen the spaceship. At least, that's when he though it had started.

In fact, it had all begun almost seven years earlier, on the day he's broken the mirror. It had been a nice mirror too. His grandmother's. Gold-plated framing and everything. Of course, it was one of things you didn't pay attention to at the time. A broken mirror? Who believes in those bad luck superstitions anyway?

Sam Taylor did. He knew it was true, because there was something chasing him. Normally, he would have assumed it was his friends trying to give him a bit of a scare, but he wasn't so sure anymore. He wasn't so sure of anything anymore, not after what he'd seen.

Sam Taylor was running for his life.

Rain pelted down on his shoulders, heavy and cold; winter rain. The pavement beneath his sneakers was flooded with water, his feet slipping and sliding every which way as he sprinted madly through back alleys and empty streets. A cat screeched and took off as he disturbed its hiding place, but he kept running. Always kept running, for if he stopped, whatever was chasing him would catch up. He definitely didn't want that to happen.

He paused for a breather, the cold night air harsh in his lungs. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, and could hear the steady thumping of his heart as it tried to break out of his chest. All signs that he was severely out of practice when it came to exercise.

The mixture of fear and adrenaline pumping through his system didn't let him keep still for long, so he hugged his thermal jacket tighter over his chest and ran on, breath still coming in ragged gasps. It was a dark night, black storm clouds burying the moon, so Sam almost ran straight into the tall man that jumped out of a side alley. At first, he thought he was going to be mugged, as the man was clutching a metal pipe in his hands, but then he recognised the outlandish style of dress. The blue pinstripe suit, red trainers and long brown overcoat were instantly recognisable anywhere.

"Run!" the man shouted, with a distinct British accent. "Run, Sam Taylor, run and don't look back!"

Sam obeyed, and the man moved to block off the alleyway behind him, almost as if he were guarding it. But Sam kept running, vowing to himself that, if he got through this alive, he was going to join up to the gym. And if this all turned out to be a dreamed caused by watching _Alien_ one too many times late at night then, well, it would still be a good move. No reason not to keep fit.

The downpour had eased up slightly, but that did nothing to ease the pain burning in his legs. He kept running, always keeping ahead of the menace that was following him.

A shout rose up from behind him, definitely human in origin, but whether it was a battle cry or a cry of pain, Sam couldn't tell. He didn't want to know, in case it was the latter. He didn't look back, not even for a moment, didn't dare tear his eyes from the path in front of him. Didn't dare do anything but run, arms pumping in time with his pounding feet.

The alley behind him fell deathly silent and Sam freaked out, skidding to a sudden halt. He spun around on the spot, but it was too dark to make out much. There was no sign of either the British man, or his pursuers. While this could be considered a good thing, Sam couldn't help but think that the strange man had been killed. Surely not? He'd never had to deal with anyone dying before, not like this anyway.

What was he going to do? He couldn't outrun the creatures, not forever. What happened then?

There was a splash from somewhere behind him and slowly, ever so slowly, he turned around, trainers squeaking on the wet pavement. Another splash, and still he was turning, not nearly fast enough.

Splash, splash, splash, splash.

He caught a glimpse of a patch of darker shadow, the impression of wings, clashing mandibles and light glinting off compound eyes before the creature leapt at him.

And still he was turning, not nearly fast enough.

Sam's only hope lies with a man he doesn't know, a man who calls himself 'the Doctor'. However, the Doctor was a lot closer than he realised.


	2. Adrift

**A/N: "Dedicated to Time Lady 802379 who won't stop with the logic" She told me to write that.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who...I own the universe! I am the Supreme Dark Lord of the Universe after all.**

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CHAPTER TWO: ADRIFT

_A few hours earlier._

Brittany watched as the Earth spun gently beneath them through the wide open TARDIS doors. From orbit, she could pick out the individual countries and name them, thanks to the Doctor's geography lessons. It seemed a necessity in the TARDIS to know Earth geography, considering how often they ended up on this planet.

"There, that's just about done it," the Time Lord crowed, giving the mushroom-shaped console a good whack with his mallet. "All fixed, rearing to go. We're ready to, as the saying goes, kick the tires and light the fires."

Brittany smiled at his strange mannerisms, and snapped the doors shut. "So," she said, racing up to the console, knocking a few random buttons as she placed herself opposite the Doctor. "Where are we off to?"

"Well…"

"Can we go somewhere that is not Earth? Just this once?"

"Well," the Doctor repeated, twiddling absently with the controls. "I suppose Murphy's Nebula is always nice this time of year…hold on, what's that?"

Brittany groaned. "Oh, let me guess – alien signal from Earth."

The Doctor rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Definitely something unusual. Can't quite decipher it but I can trace it…coming from…"

"London."

"No, actually-"

"Cardiff?"

"-not quite. It's –"

"England, tell me it's England."

"Please, just-"

"Wales?"

"No!" the Doctor burst out, jabbing his finger at the screen in exasperation. "Please, just be quiet for a moment while I have a look." A couple of blue displays flashed across the screen which Brittany could make neither heads nor tails of, and the Time Lord tapped a slender finger against the readout when the mad succession of images finished. "There we go. Aotearoa," he said at last.

Brittany looked at him blankly.

"The land of the long white cloud?" the Doctor elucidated.

Brittany repeated herself.

The Doctor sighed. "New Zealand. Auckland in fact. Hold on tight, it's gonna be a bit of a bumpy landing – it's raining, ya see?"

It was indeed raining when the Doctor stepped out of his timeship, wrapping his coat tight around his shoulders. "Ah, love that sea breeze!" he cried jubilantly, turning his face skyward, only to be rewarded with a large raindrop in the eye. Brittany followed him outside, and was almost blown across the road by the so-called sea breeze.

"Bit windy," she commented, digging her fingers into the Doctor's arm as the Time Lord started off down the road, "and you were right about the weather. It's pouring down." He just smiled, and steered Brittany into an overflowing gutter.

"Oops, sorry!" he laughed, before charging off down the footpath.

"Doctor!" His companion roared in anger, having been plunged ankle-deep in freezing cold water. "You are so dead!"

The Doctor just chuckled and ran faster, swerving and ducking to avoid tripping over anyone. Well, his plan worked until he crashed headlong into someone sprinting the other way, and found himself flat on the concrete. He groaned, slightly dazed, and rolled his head to the side, watching as the young man who'd run him down scrambled back to his feet, shouting apologies. The Doctor waved an indifferent hand, but the man didn't see, already disappearing into the crowd. With one raised eyebrow, the Doctor started to follow, but found he couldn't move as Brittany had chosen that exact moment to sit on his chest.

"I'm not letting you up until you apologise," she stated indignantly, crossing her arms.

The Doctor could only wheeze at her, since she happened to be flattening his lungs.

She frowned at him. "was that 'hmghh' I'm sorry, or 'hmghh' never?"

Using only a variety of hand gestures and facial expressions, he managed to indicate that he was indeed sorry, and could she please get off him now, as it felt like one of his ribs might have cracked. She obliged, leaving the Doctor to slowly regain his feet – and original shape.

With a heavy scowl at his companion's smug expression, the Doctor retrieved his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and began scanning it around the street.

After about a minute of this Brittany said, "Well, is it broken or something?"

The Time Lord shrugged, and pointed the alien screwdriver down the street. "No, I was just trying to create a bit of tension."

"You sure you haven't broken it?"

"I'm sure."

"Sure you aren't just trying to annoy me as punishment?"

"I'm sure… actually; I might have to think about that one." He grinned at her like a complete lunatic, waving his screwdriver around to make the point. The device beeped at him, and he jerked his head in the direction it was pointing. "Alien signal, thisaway."


	3. Sighting

**A/N: Sorry, it's been a while, hasn't it? All my assessment is finally over, and I'm on holidays for 10 whole weeks! Expect regular updates!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who...or the X-Files, or Stargate, or Star Trek, or Blake's 7, or any other television shows that may or may not be mentioned in this chapter.

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CHAPTER THREE: SIGHTING

"Omigod, omigod, omigod, omigod," Sam Taylor chanted under his breath as he pounded down the footpath, narrowly avoiding major injuries for himself as well as other pedestrians.

He couldn't believe it! It wasn't possible, it just wasn't possible! An actual real alien spacecraft, here in Auckland. It was just completely mad.

Sam had been minding his own business, on his way home from university, when he had decided to take a bit of a detour through the park. That had soon proved to be a really bad idea, as the skies opened up and rain began to fall in torrents. He had taken shelter under the eaves of an old warehouse, seemingly run down and abandoned. When the rain showed no sign of letting up, and Sam was preparing to chance the weather on the way home, he'd heard a strange noise coming from inside.

Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he'd entered, being careful to avoid the shards of broken glass that populated the floor, and the fungus that had colonised the wooden beams supporting the high ceiling. He had pushed open a door, and that was where he saw it, as large as life. An alien spacecraft. Sure, he'd seen a Dalek saucer when the Earth had been stolen last year, but that had been planet wide. This was different. It was just him staring at a hulking black spacecraft, hidden away in an abandoned warehouse. On his way home, no less.

Sam just stood there in shock for a very long time. It wasn't until a hatchway started to open in the side of the alien craft that he came to his sense. He ran.

He charged at full pelt through the park, ignoring the rain that soaked through his jacket, sending goose bumps across his skin despite the numerous layers of clothing. Aliens! Here, in Auckland!

That one thought wouldn't leave his head as he ran through the streets of the city, desperate to get home, where it was safe. He was so preoccupied with getting as far away from the spacecraft as possible that he ran straight into someone sprinting towards him. He tumbled to the ground, jarring the hand he threw out to absorb the impact. Receiving numerous scrapes and bruises as he rolled across the unforgiving concrete, Sam quickly regained his feet. "I'm sorry! I'm really very sorry sir!" he shouted to the man he'd knocked down, already running off into the crowd again.

But really – aliens?

Sam loved his science fiction. He'd watched it all. From Blake's 7 to Star Trek, Stargate to the X-Files, he could name every alien from a dozen television series, and countless movies. He just hadn't expected to find aliens in his hometown, that's all. Albeit a very big hometown…

When Sam arrived at his flat, he was completely exhausted, doubled over and struggling for breath as he was. It took him several goes to get the key into the lock, and several more attempts to get it to turn. He stumbled from room to room, but his two flatmates were nowhere to be found. Upon discovering this, he proceeded to crawl up the stairs and into the shower.

Three quarters of an hour later, when his flatmates deemed it appropriate to arrive home over two hours later than usual, Sam was in the kitchen, onto his third cup of black coffee. "You guys won't believe what I've seen," he blurted out when they slammed the door shut and shook the droplets of water from their umbrellas.

The two looked at each other, both infuriatingly dry despite the fact that they'd walked home. The taller of the two, a man with short blonde hair, spoke first. "Go on then, try us."

Sam drained his coffee mug and dropped it into the sink. "Promise not to laugh, Will?"

"Promise."

He turned to his other friend, a slightly more portly individual. "What about you Trent?"

The man crossed a pudgy hand across his chest. "I promise not to laugh. Now, tell us what you saw."

Sam took a deep breath and said in a low conspiring tone, "I saw an alien spaceship."

Trent raised an eyebrow. "You pullin' my leg?"

"No!" Sam insisted ardently. "I saw an alien spaceship, as big as you like … huge!"

"How strong was that coffee?" Will asked, giving Trent a 'look'. "We warned you about using more than three spoonfuls."

"Five spoons," Sam admitted sourly. "But I really did see it! I'm not lying!" He bit his lip. "You all saw the Daleks, didn't you? Why won't you believe this?"

"The Daleks were worldwide," Trent stated, tapping his foot on the floor. "It was all over the news, everyone saw it. But this, well, we've only got your word for it. How can we believe you, what with that stunt last week…"

"That was different," Sam muttered, drumming his fingers on the bench. "Jamie and Saz dared me to do that. This is real!"

Trent rolled his eyes. "And we all know how much you watch your sci-fi rubbish," he continued, glancing pointedly at the stacks of DVDs next to the TV. "What's to say you haven't just been watching Star Wars one too many times?"

Sam just glowered, while Will narrowed his eyes. "How many drinks have you had?"

"What? None!"

Will tutted. "Not nearly enough. Come on, we're going to the pub. Grab your brolly."

"I don't need a drink!" Sam insisted, but Trent had him by the arm and was already leading him towards the door.

"Well, maybe not, bit I certainly do," Will said, pressing Sam's umbrella into the young man's hands. "If you want us to believe your story, we're gonna need to be completely out of our minds. First round's on me!"


	4. Investigating

**A/N:** せいとたち　は　日本語、げえじゅつ、スポーツ、おんがく、りょうり、げき　を　べんきょう　する　こと　が　できます。**Just seem meaningless Japanese drivel I felt like putting here, for lack of a better thing to write.**

**Disclaimer: Me no own Doctor Who. Me no be bothered with grammar today.**

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**CHAPTER FOUR: INVESTIGATING**

With a creak, the Doctor pushed open a door with one hand, holding up his bleeping screwdriver with the other. His red trainers crunched across broken glass as he carefully picked his way into the building. Brittany followed close behind, closing the door with a quiet squeak.

"Through here," the Doctor whispered to her as he reached another door, still constantly scanning his screwdriver around. He opened the already ajar door with one foot, slipping through far more silently than should have been possible. "Oh, Brittany, have a look at this!"

Before them squatted a large spacecraft, the hull made completely of some kind of black metal. It was longer than it was wide, but only just, with bulky wings and an overall triangular shape, like some kind of strange cosmic insect. There were only two visible exhaust nozzles, tucked under the tail fins, but they looked too small to propel the ship over any kind of interstellar distances. While the ship was made of metal, the hull was not completely smooth; some kind of apparently random design covered the entirety of the spacecraft, resembling ridged leaf-like patterns, or the kind of small creatures that clung to the underside of tide pool rocks. Another unusual feature was that there didn't appear to be any hatchways of windows, with three struts – some kind of landing gear – being the only interruption in the otherwise unbroken surface of the spaceship.

Brittany, realising her mouth was hanging open, snapped it shut and hurried over to the Doctor, who was already standing next to the ship. The landing gear held the spacecraft at about the Time Lord's shoulder height, and he placed his ear against the hull listening.

"So," Brittany interrupted. "What kind of ship is it?"

"No idea," the Doctor replied absently, moving about a metre along the spacecraft, and pausing to listen again. "Can't know everything, can I?"

"You sure make it seem that way," his companion pointed out. "Besides, you're the alien expert."

He stepped backwards, and began twiddling with the sonic screwdriver. "There are thousands of different spaceships in this time period alone and if you factor in all the ones with the ability to travel in time, there are thousands more. I can't remember them all," he said, without looking up from his screwdriver. "A quick look inside should help me work it out though."

"Uh, Doctor… if you hadn't actually noticed, there aren't any doors."

"Really?" the Doctor said with a grin on his face that said otherwise. He returned his attention to the ship, running his fingers along the grooves and ridges on the patterned hull. He obviously found what he was looking for, because he jammed his sonic screwdriver into what at first had just appeared to be a random score on the hull, but was actually a marking that stretched well beyond the Doctor's reach. He ran the screwdriver along the groove, then stepped back as the side of the ship began to melt away. It was as if the metal had become molten, flowing away to form a perfectly circular opening.

The Doctor appeared pleased with himself. "Ladies first," he proclaimed, and hauled himself up into the spaceship, struggling to get purchase on the smooth floor. "Gentlemen second." He lowered a hand for Brittany, who scoffed, but took it anyway. As soon as she was inside, the 'hatchway' shut behind them, leaving a blank piece of wall where there had only seconds before been empty space.

"So, my lady," Brittany said sarcastically, "where to from here?"

With a shrug, the Doctor pocketed his screwdriver. "Onwards! Upwards! Forwards! Never backwards though, 'cos then you can't see where you're going. Nasty business that. Cliffs and everything."

They started off down the corridor, Brittany shooting the Doctor a curious look. "You haven't touched any alcohol in the past few hours, have you?"

"No, why?"

"You just seem extremely happy, even by your standards. Hyperactive even."

The Doctor grinned. "Nope, just happy," he said as they passed through a door that just melted away as they approached and flowed shut behind them. "Happy to be here in fact. Do you know how long it's been since I've visited New Zealand?" Brittany wasn't given a chance to speak. "One hundred and twenty-two years. One hundred and twenty-two years! We should go bungee jumping. You ever been bungee jumping Brittany? Not much opportunity on Sydoriv, I would expect. All work and no play. Well, I'm going to take you bungee jumping, Brittany Harvey, as a celebration." He paused as they passed through another one of the strange alien doors. "Hey look, the bridge!"

Brittany watched him run off, rather irritated by the alien's strange mood. "Note to self," she muttered under her breath, "on return to TARDIS, remember to hide the sugar. The Doctor appears to have been splurging again."

As if the mention of his name was a cue, the Doctor looked up; dark-rimmed rectangular glasses perched on his nose. "Are you just going to stand there all day?" he asked innocently, before returning to his mutilation of what appeared to be an alien keyboard.

By the time Brittany reached his side, he had managed to call up a holographic diagram of the entire spaceship, and was displaying the navigation computer's log up on screen. "Ship started out form the Aerin Cluster, using rift technology to complete the journey." Seeing Brittany's uncomprehending look, he elaborated. "The ship tears a hole in the fabric of space and slips through, arriving almost instantaneously." He peered at the screen again. "Ah, this is what I was looking for. 'Scout Cruiser Llarindaal K-34' en route from Shadooth system; planet of origin: Kowaric…Kowaric? But that means… Ma'ark!"

Brittany jumped at his sudden outburst. "Ma'ark?" she repeated. "Care to explain?"

The Doctor charged his fingers across the keyboard at superluminal speed, keeping his eyes locked on the screen. "The Ma'ark are a race of insectoid life forms from the planet Kowaric," he said distractedly. "Had a bit of a falling out with them a few years back now."

"Do tell."

"They tried to behead me, and I protested. Quite violently if I remember correctly. There were a lot of explosions." He stopped to rub his chin. "Question is, what are they doing here?"

"Vacation?" Brittany suggested.

The Doctor shook his head. "I have a feeling that's not the answer. Let me just call up the mission log." There was a moment of frenzied typing after which the Doctor snapped his fingers. "Ahah!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "There it is! Crew of five, sent to Earth for an Initiation Ceremony. Oh, that's bad news." He ran a hand through his hair nervously. "That's very bad news indeed. Especially for a mister Sam Taylor. I was wondering why this ship was empty."

Brittany glanced between the alien and the screen. "What's an Initiation Ceremony? And who is Sam Taylor?"

"Not enough time," the Doctor said through gritted teeth as he whacked the keyboard so hard he nearly broke it. "We have to find Sam Taylor, because the Ma'ark seem to have an interest in him. And people the Ma'ark take an interest in usually end up missing vital parts of their anatomy." He gave Brittany a dark look. "Namely, their heads."


	5. Strangers

**A/N: Hooray! I hear you cry. Double Update! That's probably all from me at the moment though - you'll have to wait until I type and spellcheck the next few chapters.**

**Disclaimer: Please see previous chapter.

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CHAPTER FIVE: STRANGERS

"Look guys, I'm serious!" Sam was still insisting as he and his two friends entered the pub. "I really did see a spaceship!"

"Mate, if it's what you want to believe," Trent started, but was distracted by the pint Will placed in front of him. "Thanks!"

"No, but really, I saw it…" Sam trailed off when he realised that his flatmates weren't listening to him anymore, being too busy discussing dates for an upcoming party. With a heavy sigh, Sam swirled a cocktail umbrella around his strangely blue drink, but refused to partake in the alcoholic beverage.

How could he convince his friends he'd seen a spaceship? He'd had a phone in his pocket the whole time, why hadn't he just taken a damned photo? Gods, he could be so thick sometimes. But it hadn't been a figment of his imagination, he was sure of it. He had to show Trent and Will…

By the time he had made the decision to show them, they were both onto their second pint. Sam opened his mouth, but caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye, a kind of shadow among shadows. He snapped his mouth shut, and squinted across the pub, but whatever it was, it wasn't there anymore. Sam was ready to blame it on his overactive imagination, when the doors to the pub burst open.

Two figures strode in, acting as if they owned the place. The first was a man with wild brown hair, and equally wild eyes. He was wearing a crumpled blue suit covered in red pinstripes, which he was amazingly managing to pull off, along with red sneakers and a long brown overcoat that swished around his ankles.

The woman accompanying him was about half a head shorter, and was wearing a pair of grey jeans and a blue jacket over a plain black shirt. She had large boots on her feet, and her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. They were both completely saturated.

The man stepped forward and spoke, satisfied that he'd caught everyone's attention. "I'm looking for a Sam Taylor!" he shouted out, consulting some kind of PDA device that he had cupped in his hands. "Is there a Sam Taylor here?"

Sam's breath caught in his chest. They wanted him! What had he done wrong? The guy wasn't a copper, was he? For one, he had a British accent, but there was no reason why British guys couldn't become Kiwi police officers, was there? Maybe they weren't police officers after all. Perhaps they were part of some big government cover-up that dealt with people who had seen aliens. And maybe, just maybe, his imagination was getting away from him.

"Sam Taylor?" the man repeated.

Sam ran a hand through his hair nervously, and stood up. "That's me."

"What are you doing?" Will hissed, tugging on Sam's arm. "He might be here to kidnap you!"

As if he had heard, the British man shot Will a disapproving look, before hurrying to Sam's side. "Now listen carefully," he started in a low tone, "my name is the Doctor, and you're in grave danger Sam. You have to get out of here right now."

"Are you mad?" Trent interrupted, "like he'd listen to you!"

"I think we should let the man speak for himself, don't you?" the lady behind the Doctor growled. "Shut your fat mouth."

"Brittany, keep it down," the Doctor hissed, giving her a look that mirrored that which he had given Will only seconds before. "Sam, you have to run, run as fast as you can, because they're after you."

Sam glanced over his shoulder as where he'd seen the movement in the shadows, a shiver racing down his spine. "What is it? What's after me?"

The Doctor paused. "Aliens, Mister Taylor, aliens. And they're not friendly ones either." He waved his PDA around. "I nicked this from their spaceship. It's kinda like a Sam-tracker. Isn't it cool?"

"Doctor…" Brittany warned.

"Sorry," he said meekly. "But you have to go now Sam, because they're already here."

"Doctor… you would dare deprive us of our prey?"

He shook his head in dismay as all five of the Ma'ark appeared from the shadows, clacking their mandibles angrily. They looked like some sort of a cross between a wasp and a styracosaurus, but they were undoubtedly alien. While they did closely resemble an insect, they didn't have all the hallmarks of a traditional hexapod. For, while their segmented body was indeed covered in a chitinous exoskeleton, they had only four limb arrayed in a bipedal configuration, along with a pair of gossamer-thin wings. The parts of their bodies that were not covered by their exoskeleton had a dark purple hue, and glowing red eyes peered out from underneath a ceratopsian-style armour plate, and, to top it all off, at full height they were only about as tall as the Doctor's waist.

"And I was hoping to keep this quiet," the Time Lord muttered to himself, before adding, in his loudest and most commanding voice, "RUN!"

Sam didn't need telling twice. He bolted through the door, followed by a stampede of customers and publicans alike.

"So," the Doctor said, pressing the alien PDA into Brittany's hands and taking a step forward, "you can go after your human friend, or I can lead you on a merry chase through the streets of Auckland. Your choice."


	6. The Enemy

**A/N: Dedicated to w1nter, who finally caught up with the current update. Now she has to wait patiently for the next chapter like the rest of us (myself included).**

**Disclaimer: The Noof does not own Doctor Who. But she now owns a nice shiny new 'Children of Earth' boxset, perfectly designed to keep her up late at night.

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CHAPTER SIX: THE ENEMY

"Great idea Doctor!" Brittany hissed under her breath, "oh, fantastic plan indeed."

The Time Lord spared her an annoyed glance. "I heard that! And anyway, we're saving Sam. Isn't that good?"

Brittany rolled her eyes, and charged around a corner in the Doctor's wake. "Hooray!" she cried sarcastically, out of breath. "We save Sam Taylor, but offer ourselves up to be dismembered instead."

"I didn't say that," the Doctor shot back. "And Ma'ark don't dismember their victims. They decapitate them. There's a difference there."

"Oh _sorry_! Doesn't change the fact that we're being chased by a horde on them intent on cutting us into little chunks."

_I wouldn't call five a horde_, the Doctor thought to himself, but decided to save his breath and not annoy Brittany further, because they were being chased, and capture was not an option. Of course the Ma'ark had chosen to chase him. Who wouldn't? If you were given the choice between hunting down a human, or chasing a Time Lord who was probably your greatest enemy of all time, which option would you pick? Truth be told, there wasn't much competition. But, despite the fact that it was the logical choice, the situation couldn't be called great. Looking on the bright side, the Ma'ark weren't carrying hand-held weapons of any kind.

"Tell me why we're running through the rain with a bunch of aliens intent on taking our heads again?" Brittany asked between breaths.

"We've got to give Sam enough time to get away. Actually, I think we've done enough running, don't you?" They rounded a corner and lost sight of their pursuers. "Drop the tracker."

"You what?"

The Doctor growled in frustration, knocking the alien device out of his companion's hands. It clattered across the road as he dragged her inside a nearby building and slammed the door shut. The sound of Ma'ark voices filtered in from outside as the two time travellers retreated further into the depths of their hideout.

"What did you make me drop the tracker for? Now we won't be able to find Sam," Brittany whispered, annoyed like she usually was when the Doctor didn't tell her what his entire plan involved right from the start.

"Because the Ma'ark can trace it," the Doctor responded quietly. "That's one of the reasons I picked it up; to make it easier for them to find us. But I don't want to be followed right now."

"So how do we find Sam?"

"We follow the Ma'ark."

"So now we're using Sam as bait?" Brittany rolled her eyes. "First you draw the aliens away from him, then you let them chase him. Sometimes, I wonder how your mind works."

The Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket. "So don't come," he suggested, squinting at the alien device. "Just need to calibrate this… Do you have a mobile?"

"Do you think I have a mobile phone? You need to screw your head on right."

He stared at her blankly, until comprehension finally dawned on his face. "Oh, yes, right. Thirty-eighth century, I forgot." He paused. "I left my phone in the TARDIS. What now?"

Before Brittany could suggest a course of action, or even ask why in the nine hells the Doctor needed a phone in the first place, the skylight above them exploded in a spray of scintillating glass shards, and the Time Lord barrelled her behind a stack of crates. After a few seconds, Brittany raised her head up from behind her crate, only to see a piece of glass about as long as her forearm embedded in the front of the wooden box.

"That was a close one," she commented, "could have lost an eye!"

"Or your head," the Doctor added. "Not a good thing, losing one's head."

Brittany groaned. "Enough with the decapitation! Is it like an obsession with you or something?"

Just then, a shadow passed in front of the broken skylight, and two clawed feet touched down before the two time travellers could make a run for it. Brittany found herself looking up into an emotionless insectoid face.

"Peekaboo!" the Ma'ark cried, spreading it's wings out in an impressive display, despite the fact that it was only about three foot tall. "I've found you!"

The lady from Sydoriv recovered quickly enough to shoot back an insult. "That was in bad taste," she said, folding her arms and putting on her most indignant expression. "I mean, really? Peekaboo? Surely you could have found something better to cry triumphantly. Even the old clichéd 'resistance is futile' would have been better than 'peekaboo'. What are you, a children's television host?"

"Aha!" the Doctor crowed in triumph, raising his screwdriver up to strike a victorious pose. "Got it!

By now, the Ma'ark seemed confused beyond the ability to offer any form of meaningful reply, but before the time travellers could take advantage of this, two more Ma'ark appeared, flitting down through the remains of the skylight.

"And again," the Doctro said, grabbing Brittany's hand and pulling her away from the aliens. "Would you prefer the window or the door?"

"The window's got glass in it!" she protested.

The Doctor shrugged. "Door it is," he confirmed, aiming his foot at the door that was their ticket to freedom, while keeping all pieces of their body intact. He was just trying to knock it open, and was therefore surprised when the rusted hinges snapped clean off, sending the door clattering to the floor.

"Oh, whoops," he muttered to himself, glancing over his shoulder at the advancing aliens. "When I say run –" he started to say, but Brittany cut him off by yanking him through the doorway.

"Run!" she shouted.


	7. The Chase is On

**A/N: I like Sam's 'TV' musings in this chapter. I wonder how many chapters I can get done before Midnight? I have nothing else to do while I'm waiting for the New Year to roll around, so I thought I'd write up a few chapters of this. Well, when I say a few...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, no matter how cool and awesome that would be.

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CHAPTER SEVEN: THE CHASE IS ON

Sam paused at the corner of two streets, listening for the sound of pursuit. Thankfully it seemed like the only noises were coming from cars screeching past on the wet tarmac of the road surface, and the constant thud-thud of winter rain on the rooftops. Slowly catching his breath, Sam looked to the west, only to see the last of the sun's dying rays disappearing below the horizon. It would be completely dark within minutes, and upon realising this, Sam sighed.

It was going to be one hell of a night.

Sam sank down onto a nearby bench, wrapping his warm jacket tight around his shoulders, and flipping a hood up to protect his face from the stinging rain. There was still a part of him that was denying it, a part of him that wanted to believe it was all just some terrible nightmare. But it was too real for a nightmare; far too real.

The worst nightmares are the ones that seem real, the logical part of his brain reasoned, but he ignored it. The rain proved it. He'd never felt so bloody freezing in a dream.

A truck rumbled past, horn blaring, startling Sam into action. He leapt to his feet, squinting into the darkness that surrounded him. There was nothing, not a noise out of place and yet …

He took a deep breath. He wasn't going to give himself over to panic. That would only make matters worse. Then, a screech sounded from an alleyway somewhere to his right and Sam took off like a rocket, not looking back, not even for a second.

He charged around a corner, the cry fading away behind him. "It was probably just a cat," he said aloud to reassure himself, "just some stupid cat." Despite this reasoning, he didn't slow down in case it wasn't just a cat, but something far more sinister.

After being nearly run down by a van while crossing the road at a sprint, Sam slowed to a jog and attempted to gather his wits. He was letting panic take over, exactly what he'd told himself he was going to avoid. God, but meeting aliens wasn't as easy as it seemed on TV. If only life was as easy as TV. Then, no one would have to go to work, and everyone would sit around in coffee shops all day talking about nothing in particular. But, the end result would be that the world would run out of coffee because of the rising demand, and all these people practically living off coffee at the coffee shops would start to go into withdrawal. Then, with all these people suffering from withdrawal, the hospitals would be full to bursting and, as a result, the government would end up pumping more money into the health system, raising taxes to pay for it, but then no one would have any money, and the economy would crash and –

Perhaps it was Sam's wandering mind that saved him, perhaps it was just sheer dumb luck. Whatever the cause was, his foot caught on a crack in the pavement, interrupting his train of thought and sending him flailing unceremoniously to the ground. He landed with an 'oof', the wind knocked out of his lungs, leaving him gasping like a fish out of water, but that was a small price to pay for survival.

One of the bug aliens shot at him from behind, claws scraping bare centimetres above his scalp. The Ma'ark realised its mistake a moment too late, flaring out transparent wings in a desperate attempt to avoid the brickwork looming in front of it. There was an audible 'crunch' as the alien slammed headfirst into the wall, falling back more than a little bit stunned.

With a loud gasp, Sam managed to draw a breath, air rushing to fill his lungs. Accidentally knocking a rubbish bin over in an attempt to use it as a handhold, he managed to rise to his feet with great difficulty. With one last look at the alien lying incapacitated on the ground, Sam set off as a jog, only to stop at the sound of a hiss coming from behind him.

Two more of the insectoid aliens were after him now, one pausing to help it's downed companion, the other charging straight for him. Sam almost tripped over his own feet in an effort to get away as fast as humanely possible. There did seem to be an awful lot of running going on.

He counted five aliens in the pub, and three were accounted for. That left two more, at least. Who knew how many there were? The Doctor would. He struck Sam as someone who would know something like that. The only one that could truly describe him was …. _Otherworldly_.

Sam swore as he spotted two glowing red pinpricks in the gloom ahead, seconds later discerning the alien cutting off his path.

_Four_, he thought to himself, _where's the fifth_?

Sam skidded to a halt at the intersection of four alleys, and sure enough made out the glowing red eyes to his left. The human immediately veered to his right, taking the only possible route he could. It was almost as if they were herding him, but to where?

Up ahead, the sound of a ship's horn blared across an otherwise quiet night, and it dawned on Sam that he had better think of something soon. The harbour was just ahead, and he was going to run out of land…


	8. Distraction

**A/N: I just realised that I hadn't mentioned the fact that I had a picture of the Ma'ark on my deviantART page. I tried to place the URL in this Author's Note, but will not let me, so head over to my profile, click the 'deviantART' link and go to my Gallery. Have a look, and tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, but I now own the series 3 and series 4 OTS. Hurrah for Doctor Who music!

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CHAPTER EIGHT: DISTRACTION

Silence reigned as the Doctor poked his head into the open. He and Brittany had holed up behind a dumpster in an attempt to throw the Ma'ark off their trail. It seemed to be working so far, as the alleyway appeared empty enough. The Doctor tapped Brittany with his foot, and she crawled out from underneath a pile of cardboard boxes.

"Are they gone?" she asked in a whisper, peering into the gloom.

The Doctor nodded, but scanned his sonic around the alley anyway, just to be sure. "They're gone," he confirmed, tugging his companion to her feet. "Buzzed off."

Brittany frowned. "That was in bad taste."

The Doctor just smiled at her as he scanned his sonic screwdriver around.

"What are you doing?" Brittany asked curiously.

"Trying to find our Ma'ark friends," the Doctor replied, smacking his screwdriver against a nearby wall in an attempt to get it working. "I calibrated it to pick up rift energy. The Ma'ark are covered in it, see? That's one of the side effects of using a rift manipulator to travel. It's not harmful to your health or anything; it just makes you awfully easy to track with the right bits of tech." As if on cue, the sonic bleeped loudly, and the Doctor's face split into a grin. "Come on then, allons y."

"So when that Ma'ark came in through the skylight…" Brittany began to say as they started jogging down the street.

The Doctor nodded. "I used it to tune my screwdriver into the rift radiation. I mean, I could have used a mobile phone of course. Mobiles emit this certain type of radiation that is remarkably similar to –"

"Doctor?"

The Time Lord glanced back at Brittany, as if annoyed that she had interrupted his customary ramble. "What?"

"So you drew the Ma'ark away from Sam," Brittany began, ticking off points on her fingers, "then we hid from the Ma'ark. Then you tuned your screwdriver whosjit to track rift energy stuff, then we hid again. Now the Ma'ark are chasing Sam, but that's alright 'cos we can track 'em, is it?"

The Doctor just raised an eyebrow. "Yeah…"

"So, basically your plan is to draw the Ma'ark away, before letting them loose on Sam."

The alien tugged at an earlobe self-consciously. "It doesn't sound quite so good when you put it like that," he admitted sheepishly. "But it's all for a purpose. I just, uh … haven't quite worked out what that purpose is yet."

"You have no idea what you're doing," Brittany observed.

"Exactly."

"Just making it up as you go along?"

"Sounds about right."

"Sometimes, I wonder why I even bother."

The Doctor scowled at her. "It's not the best plan I've come up with okay? How about you try come up with something better, hmm? Then you'll see how difficult it really is."

"How about we head back to the TARDIS for teas and biscuits?"

The Time Lord stopped dead in his tracks, turning to lock his companion with the fierce glare he normally reserved for his enemies. "You're willing to let an innocent human die?"

"It's one person, Doctor," Brittany shot back. "We're putting our lives on the line for one person, when there are billions on this planet alone."

"Are you saying that his life is not worth as much as ours?" the Doctor spat, thoroughly disgusted. "What if he invents the cure for cancer, or an interstellar starship engine, hmm? What then, Brittany? What would happen if we let him die?"

"I was just trying to make a point-"

"And so am I! How would you like it if I just left you here? Just left you here, on this planet, in this alley, flew off … and didn't come back? How would you feel about that? What would you do?" The alien spun on his heels and strode off down the street.

Brittany ran after him. "What I'm trying to say is: why? You're the last of your species, and yet you throw yourself into danger to save just a few of us idiot humans. Why do you do it?"

The Doctor paused, considering his answer carefully. "Because I can," he said simply. "Because I like idiot humans. Because it's what I've always done." He looked over his shoulder at her, his expression unreadable. "Is that a good enough answer for you, or were you expecting something deeper?"

A smile spread across Brittany's face. "No, I think that's just about perfect." But the grin fell off her face when the Doctor pocketed his screwdriver and picked up a metal pipe off the ground.

"The Ma'ark are close by," the Doctor said in way of explanation when he saw her questioning look. "You might want to grab a weapon."

The Doctor she knew abhorred violence, so she complied with his suggestion, and pulled a plank of wood out of a pile of garbage that had washed up in the gutter. If the Doctor thought that a weapon was required, there was obviously nothing else they could do. The two of them ran out of their alley into a new side street, almost tripping over Sam Taylor in the process.

"Run!" the Doctor instructed, "run, Sam Taylor, run and don't look back!" The young man complied, charging past the alien with only the slightest pause. The Doctor nodded at Brittany. "Follow him, make sure he stays safe. I'll catch up with you." Brittany gave him a salute with her plank before splashing up the alley after Sam.

The Ma'ark appeared out of the darkness, coming straight for the Doctor, half running, half flying. The Time Lord roared an old Gallifreyan battle cry, which probably translated to something like 'my pointy stick is bigger than your pointy stick, so piss off,' and whacked the first Ma'ark over the head with his pipe.


	9. To the Rescue

**A/N: Bonus points to anyone who can name which Doctor Who Novel the nuclear submarine bit is from.**

**Disclaimer: I doth not own the mighty Doctor Who. Ye shall not speaketh otherwise. Fie! Fie!

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CHAPTER NINE: TO THE RESCUE

Sam heard the shout rise up from behind him, sounding across the rainy night. He gritted his teeth and forced himself not to look back, just like the Doctor had instructed. God, he hoped nothing had happened to the Doctor. It might seem awfully selfish of him, but Sam knew his best chance of surviving the night was to stick with the Doctor, however mad that man might seem.

So he kept running, putting as much distance as he could between himself and those alien monsters. Then the Doctor's cry was suddenly cut short, the alley falling silent. Sam skidded to a halt, trainers squeaking on the wet pavement, eyes straining to pierce the shadows. He turned his head towards the way he'd come, but didn't go back. No, the Doctor had told him not to go back and he wouldn't, not with those horrible creatures still out there.

Something splashed behind him and Sam froze, fearing the worst. There was another splash, and Sam began to slowly turn, rubber soles squealing in protest. Another splash, closer this time, and still he was turning towards the noise.

And there it was coming towards him, a shadow against a shadow, a monstrosity of clashing mandibles and emotionless insect eyes, leaping straight at him.

With a deep breath, Sam closed his eyes. This was it then. This was how it ended. Twenty years of chips, pizza, Chinese takeout and playing Frisbee in the park. Twenty long years of learning, school and university, all about to end in some dreary alley in the middle of a stormy night.

CRACK!

"Open your eyes you fool!" Brittany shouted, taking the terrified young man by the hand. He did what she said, only to see his attacker lying incapacitated on the ground. A screech, definitely not human in origin, echoed down the alley, and Brittany started to drag Sam away. "Come on, they're after us, and I snapped my plank on the first one."

Sam nodded, and they splashed up the alley together. "Where's the Doctor?" he asked, anxiety creeping into his voice. "Is he not with you?" What if he was dead?

"He said he would catch up," Brittany said, glancing over her shoulders to check for pursuit. "He's been in worse scrapes than this." She was trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince Sam. The Doctor was being a foolish idiot, like usual, but he was buying them some time to get away.

So they followed the Time Lord's instructions, Sam continuing to run, Brittany still trying to keep him safe. They were almost run down by an angry lorry driver, who probably wasn't too happy to be driving around at midnight and was most certainly not happy to have two fools run out onto the road in front of him. He shouted obscenities at them as they ducked down a side street, finally pausing for breath.

"Do… you… think we… lost them?" Sam panted between breaths, leaning heavily on the side of a run-down record store.

"I'm… not sure," Brittany replied, completely exhausted but still able to stand on her own two feet without aid. The two slowly regained their breath, the few pedestrians that were out this late at night (or this early in the morning – however you like to see it) giving them strange looks. "By all the gods and goddesses in the pantheon, is it cold or what?"

"Bloody freezing," Sam confirmed, pointing up at the sky, from which rain was still pouring by the bucket load. "When it isn't raining, you're being fried by UV rays."

"You'll have to explain it to me later, because right now we need to get somewhere safe."

"More running?"

Brittany smiled apologetically. "Left or right?"

"Left!" Both humans turned to see the Doctor striding towards them, completely saturated. He looked a little worse for wear – his hair was plastered to his forehead and there was a bleeding cut above his left eye – but he was still grinning like the complete lunatic he was. "I know this nice little warehouse we can hang out in."

"Doctor, you look like you took a bath with your clothes on," Brittany pointed out. "What the hell happened?"

"I just took a quick dip in the ocean," the Doctor said with a flippant shrug. "Gave our little alien friends the slip down at the harbour. Didn't want to come swimming with me; antisocial I tell ya."

Sam stared at him, slack jawed. "It's the middle of July! That would be freezing!"

"It was a bit cold, now you mention it," the Doctor mused. "Not as cold as that time in Russia where I swam into a nuclear submarine through the torpedo tube. Remind me to tell you about it sometime." He clapped his hands together. "So, warehouse. Are we all agreed on that?"

Sam and Brittany nodded.

"Warehouse it is then."

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**A/N: So, we've finally discovered how the cliffhanger at the end of Chapter One is resolved. Only took nine chapters. *grins evilly***


	10. Seven Years Bad Luck

**A/N: Sorry I haven't been updating recently - been busy fitting back into the school routine, not to mention the homework. Gerh. Enough about that - here's chapter ten!**

**Disclaimer: I doth not own the Doctor of Who. Nay, that honour is the sole right of ye olde BBC.

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CHAPTER TEN: SEVEN YEARS BAD LUCK

"This should about do it," the Doctor said, pressing a twenty dollar note into Brittany's hand. "Don't stay out too long."

"I'll be careful, _dad_," Brittany jested, tucking the cash into her pocket before she slipped out the door. The lights flickered on, revealing the interior of the warehouse they'd holed up in. The Doctor shuddered. This warehouse looked disturbingly similar to the one he, Martha and Jack had hidden out in while on the run from his dear old friend the Master. The location might change, as might the villain of the week, but warehouses still looked the same the world over. What a dump.

The roof was leaky, water dripping down to form a puddle on the cracked concrete floor and the walls, also made of concrete, looked to be on the verge of collapse. Crates were stacked haphazardly all over the place, and the Doctor managed to find three chairs and a small coffee table jammed into the mess. Sam returned from his trip to find the light switch and sank gratefully into one of the padded chairs. The Doctor had already chosen his chair, and had purloined the table for his footrest.

"Where'd you find all this?" Sam asked, gesturing at the furniture.

The Doctor leant back into his chair, folding his hands behind his head. "I found a crate of furniture over there." He sniffed dismissively. "This place looks like somewhere to store all sorts of random odds and ends." He grinned and pulled something large and plastic out of his pocket. "Look what I found!"

"It's hideous!"

"Is it?" The Doctor sounded surprised, and he stared at the thing in his hand. "No, it's a Kewpie doll."

Sam shook his head. "It's still hideous."

The alien looked at the creepy plastic doll again. "Yeah, I s'pose you're right," he conceded as he casually chucked the toy over his shoulder without a second thought. It skittered across the floor and came to rest against a moth-eaten lampshade.

Fixing the Doctor with a gaze that the alien appeared not to notice, Sam leant forward. "Where're you from Doctor?" he asked. "Cos you're certainly not a local."

"Place called Gallifrey," the Doctor replied, not really playing attention at all. "It's a long way from here."

"Gallifrey," Sam repeated, rolling the word around his mouth. "Is it that in Ireland?"

The Doctor shrugged, and Sam didn't know whether to take it as a yes or no. "So," the younger man continued, "those things chasing me…"

"Were aliens, yah," the Doctor supplied. "They're called Ma'ark."

"Ma'ark," Sam repeated.

"Yah," the Doctor said again. "And they're not very nice." The Time Lord leant forward, moving his arm so he could rest his chin on his hand. "One thing I haven't worked out yet is why you? I know how they got here, what they're doing here and how they're gonna do it, but I don't know why they chose you. Why come all this way just to pick on Sam Taylor?"

"Gallifrey isn't in Ireland, is it?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, it isn't."

"But you look human!"

The alien just winked at him, and continued with his train of thought as if that short interlude had never happened. "Why you, Mister Taylor? What have you ever done that made the Ma'ark take an interest in you?"

"I dunno," Sam murmured, "nothing really. I mean, I'm ordinary."

"They don't think you are," the Doctor pointed out. "They think there's something special about you, something that makes you different from every other person they could have chosen. But what is it? Think, Sam."

"Maybe it's because I believe in aliens. I mean, before it was worldwide and stuff," Sam suggested.

The Doctor rubbed his fingers against his temple. "That might be part of it, but if that were the only reason, there'd be thousands of candidates. No, there's something else."

"Well…"

"What? What is it?"

Sam hesitated. "There was that mirror I broke. Seven years ago today."

"Mirror?"

"I know, it's stupid. I shouldn't have mentioned it," Sam said, but something was lighting up in the Doctor's eyes.

"Yes," the alien said triumphantly, rising to his feet. "That sounds just like the Ma'ark, preying on superstitious fears." He snapped his fingers. "Oh yes, yes, yes that's it. I should have seen it sooner. The Ma'ark like to play on subconscious fears. Well, to put it another way, they really like to freak people out."

"Well, it's working," Sam put in. "I'm feeling pretty freaked out right now." He took a deep breath. "And what happens then?"

"Decapitation."

"Right, now I'm extremely freaked out," Sam admitted. "You're not helping."

The Doctor sat back down in his chair. "By Rassilon, I hate the Ma'ark," he muttered, "and it always falls to me to be the good guy and save everyone, doesn't it?" He sighed, and dropped his head into his hands. "And I haven't got a single idea how to do it."

Which wasn't strictly true. No, he did have one idea on how to save Sam, but that idea… What he should have said was that he didn't have any ideas that didn't involve violence.


	11. Aliens

**Disclaimer: The Noof doesn't own Doctor Who. She does however, own a folder with a lot of stuff written in it. It's all about some tall skinny alien guy in a suit. Complete nonsense, if you ask me.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN: ALIENS

"I suppose proper introductions are in order," the Doctor said cheerily as Brittany slapped a steaming packet of chips down on the table. "I'm the Doctor, and I'm an alien. And a remarkably handsome one at that." Brittany snorted into her sleeve, but the Doctor continued to beam.

"I'm Sam, and I'm… well, human?" Sam tried, with a shrug.

"And I'm Brittany Harvey," Brittany said, sinking down into the only free chair. "I come from the future, if anyone's interested."

Sam nodded his head slowly. "Riiight… are you sure I'm not dreaming?"

"Pinch yourself," Brittany suggested.

"I'm not pinching myself, that's-"

"-Stupid?" Brittany finished. "I'll pinch you if you want."

The Doctor raised a hand for silence. "No one is pinching anyone," he instructed.

Brittany shrugged, and tore into the packet of chips. "Fancy that, having dinner at midnight."

The Doctor nabbed a chip, and popped it into his mouth. "Not bad," he decided after a long moment of deliberation, "but they didn't wrap it in newspaper."

His companion didn't want to fall into that old argument again, so she settled for changing the subject. "But Doctor," she began, also stealing a chip for her own nefarious purposes, "I've seen these Ma'ark before, remember?"

The Time Lord didn't look up as he replied, being rather intent on digging through his pockets for that packet of tomato sauce he was sure he'd stuck in there last week. "No, I don't recall. When was this?"

"Remember when we met up with Captain Jack in Wales, and there was that Shadow, and you had that thing for microwaves?" Brittany prompted hopefully. "Though you were out of it for quite a long time."

"Oh yes, that time, yes," the Doctor realised through a mouthful of chip. "They chased us around didn't they? And I insulted them? Not necessarily in that order," he added as an afterthought. "Yeah, I remember." But if he had anything else to say on the subject it was left unsaid, as at that exact moment he found that packet of sauce he'd been vainly searching for.

"But what are the Ma'ark doing on Earth in the first place?" Sam piped up. "They didn't come from here, 'cos I saw their spaceship."

"You did?" the Doctor queried as he picked up a sauce lathered chip.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

The Doctor repeated the human's gesture. "Well, I suppose an explanation is in order then. The Ma'ark came to Earth for something called an Initiation Ceremony. Basically, when a Ma'ark 'comes of age', or so to speak, they have to prove themselves worthy of entering mainstream society. So they band together and fly off to find a victim. The more they scare said victim, the more the rest of their little Ma'ark buddies will think they're totally awesome, to put it nicely. They then capture their victim, paralyse him or her with a sting, fly back home and behead them." The Doctor made a chopping gesture with his hand. "Voila! Adult Ma'ark."

Sam sank back into his chair, the reality of the situation hitting home. "So I was just unlucky enough to be chosen?" he sighed. "This is all a bit X-Files."

"X-Files?" the Doctor repeated with a smile. "Yeah, I suppose it is. I want to be Mulder though. I've always liked Mulder. You know, I've met him. Had a bit of a run-in with a face-sucking alien."

"You've met Mulder?"

"Yeah, long story…"

"I'm sure he makes half of it up," Brittany put in, receiving a scowl from the Doctor for her efforts. "He's got this story he tells about a Black and White Guardian. Absolutely ridiculous."

"It's true!" the Doctor protested. "I had to go find all the pieces of the Key to Time and –"

Brittany held up her hand. "Enough. I don't need to hear it again."

Sam watched this banter uncomprehendingly. "Uh-huh," he decided, turning back to the Doctor. "Well, you've certainly got Mulder's taste in hairstyles." The alien fingered his unruly hair which, after it had dried enough to actually style, he'd swept to the side. "But where do you stand on explainable phenomenon?"

"Me?" the Doctor laughed. "You don't know the half of it." He began ticking things off on his fingers. "Aliens, time travel, Shakespeare, Elvis, Torchwood – I've seen it all, and more."

"Shakespeare?" Brittany interrupted.

"Time travel?"

The Doctor pulled at an earlobe self-consciously. "I got a bit carried away there, didn't I?" He answered Brittany first. "Yes, I have met Shakespeare, and he was about as flirtatious as our good friend Cap'n Jack. No, we can't see him right now, but yes, we might be able to find some time to visit later." He turned to Sam, but instead of a verbal response, he just tapped a slender finger against the side of his nose.

"Wow," said Brittany in surprise.

The Doctor smiled. "Gift of the gab, that's me." A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he glanced between Sam and Brittany. "If we're still on the topic of X-Files… Sam, I'd like you to meet my sceptical companion, Scully."

Sam grinned at the comment, but the joke passed right over Brittany's head. "Look, I'm not even going to get involved," she pointed out. "So, where do we sleep?"

"Er…" the Doctor elucidated, standing up and looking around the musty warehouse. "The chairs are comfortable, aren't they?" Brittany just raised an eyebrow. "Look, do you really want to find your way back to the TARDIS in this," the alien said with an expansive gesture, indicated both the weather and the Ma'ark that were sure to be lurking somewhere out there in the city. Brittany could only respond to that with a shake of her head. "Here, take this," the Doctor suggested, handing her his coat. "It'll make a good blanket."

"Gee, thanks," Brittany murmured, thoroughly underwhelmed as she sank further back into her chair. "Goodnight Doctor." She pulled the coat up to her chin and tried to get comfortable.

The Doctor leant back into his own chair, thumping his trainers up onto the table. "Sorry Sam, but I had to be a gentleman and give the lady the coat," he said, lacing his fingers behind his head. "G'night."

With a sigh, Sam rolled onto his side and slowly drifted off to sleep. The warehouse fell silent, but the Doctor remained wide awake, staring at the dark ceiling. _By all the worlds in the seven systems, how am I going to solve this one?_


	12. Sleepless

**A/N: Thought I'd get the rest of this story done in one fell swoop so... here we go! The Climax!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor, so PLEASE DON'T SUE ME!**

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**CHAPTER TWELVE: SLEEPLESS**

Sam woke with a start, expecting the dream to be over when he opened his eyes, expecting to be back in his flat passed out in front of the television. No such luck. He was still in the warehouse, still being chased by a bunch of underage aliens, still not dreaming. Damn.

"What's another name for geek, four letters, has a 'd' at the end?"

Sam rubbed blearily at his eyes and sat up. The Doctor was still exactly where he had been when Sam had gone to sleep, only this time the alien was sporting a pair of dark-rimmed spectacles, and was doing what appeared to be a crossword.

"Well?" the Doctor prompted, chewing on the end of his pen as he waited for an answer.

"Wha- oh, nerd."

"Nerd?" The Doctor leant over his crossword, and hastily scrawled the letters into their respective boxes. "Huh, fancy that. Learn something new every day." He returned his full attention to puzzling out the remaining clues, leaving Sam lost for words. Brittany remained oblivious to all this, asleep as she was. A soft snore escaped from her lips, and she rolled over, subconsciously adjusting her makeshift bedspread.

"Couldn't sleep?" It took Sam a moment to realise that the Doctor had spoken, as the alien hadn't even glanced up from his crossword.

"No," Sam replied, twiddling his thumbs absently, "no, I couldn't. You?"

The Doctor dropped his crossword on the table, all the boxes filled with neatly printed letters. "Someone has to keep guard, don't they?"

"You've been up all night?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it all night – it is only three in the morning after all." He returned his glasses to his pocket. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"We can't just sit here in silence all night, can we?" the Doctor explained, as if it should have been completely obvious. "You have to say something. Well?"

"Er…" Sam threw around for something to talk about, his eyes finally resting on the bleeping silver tube that was sitting on the table. "What's that?"

The Doctor reached down and gently picked it up, twirling the slender cylinder of metal around in his fingers. "This old thing?" he said, inspecting the flashing blue light. "This is my sonic screwdriver. Nifty little piece of technology." He set it back down on the table. "Remember when I warned you in the pub, and said I had a Sam-tracker?" Sam nodded, realising that had only been hours ago, not the days it felt. "Well, my handy-dandy screwdriver here is preventing the Ma'ark from tracking you. We should be safe until morning, at the very least."

"So the Ma'ark are really from outer space?"

The Doctor gave Sam a curious look, as if he couldn't quite work out the point of the question. "Yes. I thought we'd been over this already. Aliens come from outer space."

"Doctor, don't talk to me like I'm an idiot," Sam shot back. "I know aliens are from outer space. I want to know which planet the Ma'ark are from."

"This tiny place called Kowaric, a long way from here," the Doctor said, his mind turning to stars and constellations. "Terribly overpopulated."

"And you come from Gallifrey, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"So does that make you Gallifreyan?"

The Doctor's face fell ever so slightly as he saw the Citadel in his mind's eye, all the visits he'd made to his home world, both good and bad and the final atrocities of the Time Lords. "Pretty much, yeah," he replied softly. "Though I'm technically what you would call a Time Lord."

"Time Lord," Sam repeated, liking the sound of it. "And what do Time Lord's do? Do you build cities, wage war… what?"

The Doctor considered his answer carefully. "We… watched," he said at last, deciding that was the only word for it. "We styled ourselves as impartial observers who could see the whole of time and space. Always watching, but never interfering."

"You're not being very impartial right now," Sam pointed out, "What with taking my side instead of the Ma'ark's."

The Doctor sighed. "I know. I never was content just to sit there and watch the universe pass me by. There was so much injustice out there, among the stars, but the rest of the Time Lords weren't doing a thing about it. All of our power, going to waste.

"I did the only thing I could. I stole a spaceship and ran away. Never stopped, really." He looked over at Sam. "Well, here I am, saving you. Are you glad I did?" Sam remained silent, desperately wanting to know more, but worried that if he spoke up, the Doctor wouldn't tell him anything else.

He watched as the alien's eyes softened, a deep sadness lurking in their depths. "But they're gone now," the Doctor murmured so softly that Sam had to strain to catch his words. "All of them; every last one."

There was a long silence before Sam spoke. "What happened?"

The Doctor took a deep breath before continuing. "There was a war. A Time War. The Last Great Time War, in fact. My race fought the Daleks, and … both sides committed terrible atrocities. But everyone lost. Everyone. The Time Lords, the Daleks, gone. I thought it just might have been worth it, to save… I don't know. I just don't know." The rest didn't need to be said.

The Doctor silently leant back in his chair, turning his eyes away from Sam and towards the ceiling. Despite the number of years that had passed, the Time War was still a hard topic to discuss with anyone – so why had he gone and told a human he'd known for a few bare hours all about it?

Before he could think of a justifiable reason, the ceiling tore upwards with a roar of explosive force, and rain streamed into the warehouse. The Doctor didn't need a second look to confirm that all five of the Ma'ark were coming in through the roof and he acted fast, grabbing his sonic with one hand and Brittany's foot with the other. His companion had been instantly awake the explosion had ripped through the night, and was therefore unsurprised to find herself being dragged off into the darkness.

Sam was slightly slower to react, but as soon as he caught a glimpse of one of the insectoid aliens he vaulted over the back of his chair, and sprinted after the two time travellers. That extra second was enough for the Ma'ark however, and something heavy slammed into Sam's back, sending him crashing to the concrete. Claws tore at his spray jacket and he desperately tried to fend them off, but found that rather hard to do while pinned to the floor, unable to move. The Doctor was shouting, probably something important, but he couldn't quite make it out. Then, there was a sharp pain in his shoulder and he tried to cry out, but the words stuck in his throat. Alien hands clutched at his jacket and it took him a moment to register that he was no longer touching the ground. It was not until he spotted Brittany and the Doctor staring up at him that he realised how high he was being carried.

Then, everything faded to darkness.


	13. One Warning

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor who et. al.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN: ONE WARNING

The Doctor raised a finger to his lips as he pressed his back against the wall, indicating to Brittany that now was a good time to remain quiet. They had returned to the warehouse where they had first spotted the Ma'ark spaceship in the hopes of saving Sam. They had spent a whole night running around Auckland, and not even Brittany was willing to give up now. Didn't mean she wasn't going to complain though.

She tugged on the Time Lord's arm. "Can we just get it over with already? It's bloody freezing," she grumbled, wishing the Doctor hadn't retrieved his coat from her. It may not be waterproof, but it sure was warm.

The Doctor ignored the insistent moans of his companion, being too busy using his stethoscope to listen to what was going on inside the warehouse. "The coast is clear," he announced quietly, tucking the out-of-place medical equipment back into his pocket. "Let's go."

The two of them silently crept inside the warehouse, being careful to avoid crunching any glass underfoot – being spotted was not on the agenda. They reached the door to the 'inner sanctum', as it were, without any mishaps and, once the Doctor was sure they wouldn't be torn to pieces by a bunch of ill-tempered aliens as soon as they opened the door, they ventured inside. The Ma'ark spaceship was exactly where they'd left it, door open and everything.

_It was almost as if they were being invited inside_…

Brittany shivered, and hurried to catch up to the Doctor, who was already halfway through flailing his way inside the spaceship. "Oi, help me up," Brittany whispered rather louder than necessary, and the Doctor obliged.

"The ship's already powering up," he said in a low tone after he had heaved his companion up into the dark metal corridor. "Look at that!" He waggled his hand at her, and she was surprised to see that every single hair on the back of his manly hairy hand was standing on end.

She looked up at his face, meaning to ask him a very important question, but she managed to dissolve into a fit of giggles before she could voice her query. "Never mind the hand; look at your hair!"

The Doctor attempted to flatten his crazier-than-normal hair, but it insisted on sticking straight up in the air. "Well, you can talk," he grumbled, pointing at Brittany's long hair, which was just starting to curl up at the edges. "There must be a massive build-up of energy," he decided as he spun around on the spot to get his bearings. "Engines are that way, so hop to it." He grinned at her as he pointed at a passageway that looked just like every other passageway. "Go disable them engines – we don't want this ship taking off while I'm mid rant, do we now?"

Brittany just rolled her eyes as he gave a flamboyant wink and raced off to do some serious insulting.

* * *

The Doctor knew how to make an entrance when the situation demanded it. Always knew the right opening line to grab just the amount of attention he needed – and the Doctor decided that the perfect thing for this crisis was to say –

"I'm not normally into 'interrupting the quick getaway', but frankly you lot are terrible," he grinned as he sauntered onto the bridge. "So, here was I, thinking I'd never catch up and then I get here… BAM! You guys haven't left yet." His eyes wandered down to where Sam Taylor lay on the floor. "What, you waiting for the pizzaman to turn up? Pepperoni, with extra cheese?" He walked across to the New Zealander, coat swishing around his legs. "If I were you – which I'm not, obviously – but if I were, I'd be long gone by now."

He well and truly had the complete attention of all the Ma'ark, who were just staring at him, slack jawed. Well, the insect equivalent of slack jawed – whatever that may be.

He crouched down next to Sam – still alive by the looks of things, but unconscious. "I certainly wouldn't be waiting around for a Time Lord, and quite frankly my greatest enemy, to turn up and thwart my plans." He looked up, determination smouldering in his eyes. "Cos that's exactly what I'm gonna do, you hear me? I'm going to stop you. So, I'm giving you a chance to give me Sam Taylor, and we can pretend this never happened." He slowly rose to his feet, towering over the three-foot-tall aliens with that same determined look on his face. "You lot can fly off home, one of the few who can boast that they met the Doctor and lived. And that, in itself, is not something that happened often."

He paused for effect, letting his words sink in. "Or-" he continued after a considerable silence, "-and it's a big or – you can refuse. You can keep Sam, and try to escape. But where does that leave you, hmm? On the receiving end of the wrath of a Time Lord, that's where. That's certainly not somewhere I'd want to be. Believe me, I know."

He looked around at the five Ma'ark, his gaze lingering on each one before passing to the next. "Think carefully," he instructed, his voice calm. "You get one chance to decide – just one. You get one warning, and if you blow it, there won't be another."

His eyebrows lowered as he glared at the lead alien.

"What say you?"


	14. Saving Sam

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who and I am too tired at the moment to think of a better disclaimer, so you're stuck with this one.

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**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SAVING SAM**

The lead Ma'ark made a short hop towards the Doctor, it's small translucent wings fluttering behind it. Two red eyes stared up at the tall Time Lord, emotionless, yet somehow showing just that hint of defiance. The Ma'ark clacked its mandible as it came to a decision.

"No," it chirped.

The Doctor's brow furrowed the slightest bit. "I'm sorry?'

"We say no." The Ma'ark began to advance on the Doctor, clawed hands flexing in agitation. "We keep the human, and get you in the bargain; the greatest of our enemies."

"So be it," the Doctor murmured darkly, backing towards the door. "No more chances – you brought this upon yourselves." He paused to scoop up Sam's prone form, slinging the unconscious human over his shoulder. _Sorry Sam, but I need my hands free_. With one last parting glare at the alien insects still advancing on him, he charged off the bridge with his usual long-legged sprint.

He drew the sonic from his pocket with his spare hand, buzzing the door on the way out. Sparks flew as the metal door flowed into one solid sheet of metal, fusing the exit shut. There was a loud crash as the Ma'ark tried to open it through brute force, but their attempts had no effect. The Doctor patted Sam's leg absently.

"Job well done, don't you think?" he said out loud, before realising that he was talking to someone who was completely out of it, and that there was really no point to that at all. He cleared his throat and jogged off into the belly of the ship.

* * *

"Okay," Brittany said to herself as she entered the engine room, "stop the ship taking off." She sighed and looked around the mess of a room. Pipes and conduit snaked every-which-way, like some kind of technological jungle. Enormous canisters rose to the ceiling, akin to trees of impressive girth, smooth black metal shiny under ambient lighting.

Brittany ducked under a cluster of wires as she made her way towards the heart of the room. How long had she been travelling with the Doctor now? Three months? Four? Sometimes she wondered whether it was worth it all; the danger and the monsters, just to see the universe. Surely there were other ways to experience it all – and that wasn't including package tours of the Milky Way. She was a thirty-eighth century girl after all, and could have easily bought her way off planet. See the stars. But there was something magical about life with the Doctor. Yes, it was crazy and dangerous, but who else in the universe had a living time machine – albeit a temperamental one – that could take you anywhere and anywhen? Who else could claim that they had done as much good as the Doctor had? And here she was, sharing it all with him. Her, a twenty-eight year old human, travelling time and space with a nine hundred year old alien. It was fun and exciting – and just a little bit mad.

But she could imagine it being such a lonely existence if there was no one to share it with; she could see that much in the Doctor's eyes. Sometimes he would stare at the sky for hours on end, just thinking. Or perhaps he was waiting – for what though?

_The Lonely God_.

Brittany bit her lip and dropped back into the real world. She had arrived at the centre of the room, only to find herself staring up at an enormous construct. It was fashioned of black metal, a latticework of interwoven struts that were curved to form a giant hollow sphere. It was what was within the sphere that had caught her attention – a swirling ball of sparkling light, scintillating across the entire spectrum. This was obviously the main power source – now to find a way to turn it off.

She glanced around for any means of operation, but everything was so alien to her. Well, she was on an alien spaceship, so no surprise there. After punching a few buttons and getting no discernable reaction, she gave up on that and reverted to the time-honoured strategy of Professor Plum in the Library with the lead pipe.

Though of course, if you want to get technical, the more appropriate description would be 'Brittany Harvey in the alien engine room with a pipe made of some kind of strange alien metal', but it was close enough not to matter.

The Doctor chose that moment to crash to her side, Sam Taylor now in his arms. "'Allo!" he cried slightly out of breath, and his companion paused in her mangling-of-alien-control-panel task. "Have fun without me?"

"Oh, joyous times," Brittany joked, giving the controls another hard whack with her pipe.

The Doctor frowned at her. "Umm, you can probably stop that now," he suggested. "I think you've done a pretty good job."

Brittany paused to survey the smoking mess that was her handiwork. "You think?" she asked, gently prodding the small square control panel. A large portion of the machine collapsed inwards at the touch. "Ah, I think you're right."


	15. Crude Methods

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, nor can I claim any other rights to it, but all other characters contained herein are my fault.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN: CRUDE METHODS

The Doctor appeared to be in his element, jumping and whirling as he worked. Brittany watched with an exaggerated expression of boredom on her face as he raced round and round in circles, plugging stuff in and destroying other things. Sam also appeared uninterested in these going ons, though that might have been because he was still lying on the floor unconscious, but it was rather hard to tell…

"What are you doing Doctor?" Brittany finally asked, having held that question in for an exceptionally long time. "And what happened to our friends, the Ma'ark."

The Doctor continued his mad dance around the engine room as he answered. "Oh, I locked the Ma'ark on the bridge. I didn't want them coming to interrupt me while I was –"

"Yes?" Brittany prompted. "While you were doing what?"

The Time Lord's head poked out from behind a cluster of pipes. "Well, while I was reversing the polarity of the neutron flow, of course," he said, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the universe, before disappearing back to whatever he was doing.

"Reversing the what?"

"The polarity of the neutron flow," he called from wherever he had disappeared to. "It's elementary skill."

"The polarity of the neutron flow?" Brittany seemed unimpressed.

The Doctor's spiky-haired head popped into view again. "Yup, that's what I said. Is there a problem?"

"No, just –" Brittany though for a moment. "Nothing."

The Doctor's overactive left eyebrow came into play as he wandered around the central sphere, but he chose not pursue the topic further. There were far more important things to be doing. As he thought that, his hand closed over a large switch.

Could he actually do it? Surely there had to be another way.

Brittany slowly walked over to his side. "What will reversing the neutron of the polarity flow do?"

The Doctor didn't bother to correct her. "For starters, there'll be one heck of an explosion," he said quietly. "We'll have enough time to get out, but the Ma'ark…" He swallowed, fingers tightening on the switch. He tried to avoid unnecessary death, but it was deciding when it was unnecessary that it became a problem. Five Ma'ark in exchange for one human - was that really a fair bargain?

He looked up in surprise as Brittany's hands closed over his. "If you don't do this, they'll just try to kill again. There's no choice." The Doctor bit his lip. She was right; there was nothing else he could do.

"All or nothing," he murmured, slamming the switch down. Sparks flew, and a waning klaxon let out a piercing wail. The alien glanced at his companion. "I'd say now is a good time to run!"

And run they did.

*********

Brittany was the first out of the ship, and she quite literally hit the ground running. Her boots pounded on the concrete floor, a shock travelling up her leg each time her foot made contact. She reached the door to freedom, but paused, turning around to check on the Doctor. He appeared to be having a hard time of it, being forced to carry Sam as well as himself away from the ship.

"Hurry!" Brittany shouted, hands cupped around her mouth, "that ship's gonna blow!"

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but his words were left unsaid, for at that exact moment, the spaceship exploded.

The Ma'ark Scout Cruiser erupted into a dazzling ball of green light, the shockwave blowing Brittany into the wall. The Doctor was closer to the explosion, and was carried into the air by the wave of green. He lost his grip on Sam, the human tumbling away out of his reach. The Time Lord reached the top of his parabolic flight course and time slowed as he began his descent. Gravity seemed to have forgotten about him, leaving him hanging in the air between frozen gouts of green flame and twinkling shards of black metal. His coat slowly flapped around his ankles as he inched towards the ground, like he was falling through molasses – or some substance of a similar viscosity – rather than air.

Physics finally noticed the situation, and suddenly the Doctor was being sucked back through the air, limbs flailing. Twisted pieces of patterned metal flicked past his head, shooting back towards the ship. Gravity then decided that the Doctor had been in the air for far too long, and he found himself on rather intimate terms with the ground. He landed awkwardly on his shoulder, earning himself a rather large bruise, along with numerous cuts and grazes as he rolled across the uneven concrete floor. He looked up just in time to see the last vestiges of the Llarindaal drawn into a glowing ball of light, which vanished in one final flash of green.

The Doctor slowly rose to his feet, eyes wandering around the empty warehouse. "Rift engine imploded," he said out loud for Brittany's benefit, who was still trying to prise herself off the wall. "Normally such a catastrophe would scatter pieces of the ship across space, but with such a large rift on this planet…" He trailed off as Brittany crashed to the ground with an unceremonious 'oof'. "Let's just say, Torchwood are in for a nasty surprise."

"Is it over?"

The Doctor glanced over at Brittany, before turning his gaze to where Sam was persistently remaining unconscious.

"Yes, it's over."


	16. The Truth Is Out There

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, blah blah blah - though you must know that by now.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE

_Bleep! Bleep! Bleep! Bleep!_

Sam groggily opened his eyes and looked over at the alarm clock. Twenty past ten in the morning! Why had he set his alarm clock for such a late hour? Had he been partying last night?

The night's events chose that moment to pour back into his memory all at once, and Sam tumbled out of bed with a startled yelp. The Ma'ark! The Doctor and Brittany; aliens stalking him … hang on, how the hell had he ended up in bed?

He got to his feet, and calmed himself down. Okay, the most reasonable explanation was that it was some kind of dream, but that didn't really explain why he had gone to bed with his clothes on. Okay, okay, just stop for a moment. First things first – a nice hot shower. It was bloody freezing.

Half an hour later, after a long shower, a quick shave, a brush of the teeth, a change of clothes and a long search for his missing bunny slippers, Sam sank back down onto his bed. It couldn't have been a dream – the Doctor, the cold, the fear; it had all seemed far too real to be just a product of his own deranged imagination – and his imagination could be pretty deranged when it wanted to be. But it couldn't have been real. He was just ordinary, and that sort of thing never happened to plain old ordinary people. Maybe he just wanted it to be real, just wanted to have met someone as amazing and daring as the Doctor. And maybe, just maybe, that was the person he really wanted to be, deep down inside. Someone that helped others.

He shook his head and made his way downstairs. Man, that was some dream though. Aliens and time travellers from other worlds – not many people could claim they'd ever had a dream that exciting.

Sam walked into the kitchen, and set about making toast. The murmur of voices echoed down the hall from the lounge as he struggled to remove the bread loaf from its hiding place in the back of the freezer. Trent and Will were watching some reality TV show, no doubt. Surely they had something better to do, like annoying that old man down the road, or visiting relatives or whatever it was they did on Sunday mornings. A quiet 'bing' from the toaster brought Sam out of his reverie, and he quickly set about upending a jar of peanut butter all over his breakfast.

Laughter burst into the kitchen, and for Sam it was the last straw. "Have some respect!" he shouted as he stomped into the lounge room, half-eaten toast in hand. "I haven't even had breakfa–" He stopped dead in his tracks, halfway across the lounge room. There was a soft crunch as his breakfast landed on the carpet. "You!"

The Doctor's face grinned at him over the back of the couch, framed with a shock of spiky brown hair. "Me," he confirmed, his dark eyes sparkling.

Sam realised his mouth was open, so he quickly closed it, retrieving his toast as he did so. "So, it wasn't a dream then?"

"Not a dream," the Doctor agreed.

Brittany's head poked up over the cushions. "Definitely not. If it was, we'd all be having the same dream, and I would be thinking that is slightly strange."

"But only slightly," the Doctor put in, receiving a glare from his companion for his trouble. He replied in turn with a scowl and rose to his feet. His hands plunged into his coat pockets, and he just stood there, smiling like a complete lunatic. "So, Sam me boy, whadda ya say?"

It was the exact same man – right down to the way he held his eyes. Oh, and the manner of speech, of course. "About what?" Sam replied, not quite sure whether it was him or the Doctor that had missed something.

"I mean, your mates said it was alright and everything," The Doctor continued, gesturing at both Will and Trent, who were sitting on the other couch, mugs of coffee safely tucked in their hands.

Sam just stared blankly at the alien before him, completely at a loss for words.

The Doctor's grin slowly faded. "Umm, I'm not speaking Tritovore am I? I might as well be, for all the good it's doing me," he observed, glancing around the room like he was doing something lawless. "Umm, hello?"

"Okay for me to do what?" Sam finally asked, sure he was still far too tired to be engaging in this level of thought. It seemed like conversations with this 'Doctor' were more of a guessing game than a chance to make small talk.

Brittany jabbed the Doctor in the ribs. "Why, to come with us, of course," she explained as the tall man folded up onto the couch. "Don't worry, the longer you hang around with him, the more you understand what he's saying." She paused, and looked down at the Doctor. "Well, sometimes."

Sam's mouth dropped open again, his peanut butter covered toast completely forgotten for the time being. "Me? Come with you? Visiting other pla-"

"Countries, yes," the Doctor cut him off with a wink. "So, whadda ya say?"

Sam grinned. How could he say no to an offer like that? "Oh yes please!"

Both Brittany and the Doctor smiled straight back at him. "Well, you better pack your bags then," the alien instructed, "and get ready for the trip of lifetime. The Truth Is Out There, Sam Taylor; you just have to know where to look."


	17. Next Time

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: NEXT TIME…**

"We've landed?" Sam asked tentatively, slowly releasing his death-grip on the console.

"Yes," The Doctor said, peering at the symbols neither human could make sense of. "The planet Arktaurus, in the Yttrian galaxy. Might want to find your thermal underwear Sam, 'cos it's midwinter on the ice planet."

* * *

"I don't know about you Doctor," Brittany said, "but this doesn't really seem like an ice planet to me. For one, there's no ice."

"This is definitely Arktaurus though," the alien replied, flipping the collar of his coat up to ward off the sandstorm. "I double-checked the co-ordinates. We are in the right place."

* * *

"As I understand it, Arktaurus is an ice world," Brittany pointed out, "so where's all the ice?"

"Things were completely normal one day, and when we woke up the next morning, everything had changed," the Arkan explained. "Sand everywhere, Personally, I think it has something to do with that new star."

"A new star?" The Doctor frowned. "A star responsible for climate change?"

* * *

"It is you," Yuri breathed, anger flashing in her eyes. "The man of medicine, the wanderer, the homeless, the storm that leaves only destruction in its wake. My grandmother was but a cub when you last visited, at a time or fire and death. You brought a dark curse to our land, man of medicine, unleashing a terrible demon on Pangduk. Is it coincidence that you return and our gods forsake us?"

* * *

"That means something's up there that doesn't want to be found, and whatever it is, the technology is advanced enough to completely block my sonic. Not often I encounter something that can do that."

* * *

"Yuri might not be as Arkan as she seems." The two humans stepped outside, and immediately froze.

Sam frowned. "I don't know about you, but that jungle wasn't there last time I looked."

* * *

"But I didn't kill him, it's not my fault!"

Yuri pointed a trembling finger at the Doctor. "He has killed an Arkan. The only possible punishment for this is death!"

"Oh, do you have to?"

"Restrain him!"

* * *

"The Doctor would never kill anyone," Brittany hissed to Sam. "Yuri's lying."

"But why would she want to frame the Doctor?" he shot back. "No one does anything without a reason."

* * *

The Doctor paused at the edge of the crater, shoes sticking out over the edge. Hot molten rock bubbled hundreds of metres below him, sending blasts of burning sulphuric air shooting past his face. "Blimey."

Yuri placed her staff against the small of his back. "Goodbye Doctor," she said, and pushed.

The Doctor staggered, lost his balance… and tumbled over the edge.

* * *

The Doctor, Brittany Harvey and Sam Taylor will return in **Climate Change** for a spiffing adventure, wot wot! Tune in next time to find out what happens!


End file.
